Chapter 8: Cataclysm, Pt 8
Your eyes go wide as you realize that the two of them are doing exactly what you're doing now - they're reading each others' minds! Or rather, they're picking up what they're transmitting! You're utterly stunned at experiencing what Telepathy looks like.
So stunned that you don't notice the two of them staring back at you. Well, not for a few moments, anyway. It occurs to you that you're projecting your own thoughts, and that's allowed them to read your mind.
You redden at the realization that you literally butted into their conversation.
It's fine, you read from one of their thoughts.
We've been practicing how to control what we think, projects the other. I guess now we gotta practice how to keep them private, too, haha! Wanna join us?
You do your best to project specific thoughts in response, but find it difficult to do. It's mixed in with your anxieties and self-edits and everything. It occurs to you that you tend to think the same thought three times in a row, each time reinforcing certain things, tweaking other things, as though in search of the perfect thing to say.
All the while, all other sorts of thoughts flit in and out of your mind.
So as always, it comes out all wrong anyway.
All you want to say is something like, 'Hell yeah, let's do this!' But nothing of the sort actually happens. Your thoughts seem like a tangled, jumbled mess, which is perhaps an appropriate mirror of how your mind actually seems to operate.
Yet somehow the words surface through the muck regardless. Certainly not unscathed, and very likely in need of heavy translation.
The two of them grin on 'hearing' what you have to say.
That looks familiar, thinks one. His thoughts come with a sense of joviality. And of recollection. They feel so palpable that it's almost as though you feel them coming from you.
Don't worry, thinks the other. Takes a bit of practice to get your thoughts straight. Took us two, what, an hour to get to this point?
You nod, but before you take a seat with the two of them, you turn towards Kaja.
"Hey, I gotta do something for a bit," you tell her. "And it might take a bit of time. Also it might look a bit weird."
"Oh, you mean weird like the three of you staring at each other wordlessly for the past minute?" she jokes. "But yeah, I get it. I was gonna go see if I could help out on the clinic floor anyway. So knock yourself out."
She stops herself just as she's about to step away.
"Actually, don't knock yourself out. And also, I'll go see about getting you some headache meds," she continues.
"Oh, good call," you reply.
You turn back to your two new friends as Kaja steps out to go be an actual help.
It doesn't come to you often that you feel excited to do something, to learn more. Maybe it's because you feel like you're never good at anything, except for a few things. Maybe it's because once you zero in on something, you can't help but really dig into it.
At least, until you get bored.
Maybe it's because you've now got pretty cool powers, and can actually make them even better. Anything that will help you become more useful yourself.
How could you not want to know more?
OK, let's do this, you blurt out somewhat chaotically and clumsily.
~
It takes the better part of an hour - maybe two - before you finally take a breather. Practicing how to shape your own thoughts is so much more exhausting than you first believed, to the point where you feel utterly drained mentally and physically.
But it has been well worth it.
You can better sift your mind and present what you want to present with so much more clarity. Sure, your mind's still chaotic as anything, and all that still comes through when you try to project your surface thoughts, but certainly nowhere as loudly anarchic as before.
More importantly, you're able to shield your surface thoughts with much better ease. In fact, this is made even easier because of how your brain operates in the first place. It's a bit like hearing a constant white noise in the background, enough to distract from whatever else passes through.
Of course, the more you practice it, the better you'll get at it.
Since your body's feeling incredibly drained, you instinctively go to one of the vending machines out in the hallway. You eye each of its offerings in search of what could best satisfy a deep craving. When you spot it, you pull out a few crumpled bills from your pocket.
From behind you Kaja says, "This one's on me."
She puts her hand on yours, the one that's holding your cash, and lowers it. Then she reaches out with her other hand towards the vending machine, and with a quick flick tugs one of the snacks out of its coil tray.
It falls into the dispenser below, and ultimately fish it out moments later. But you frown at the package in your hands.
"I was going for the ChoccoBar," you say. "Not this…"
You glance back down at the package to read what's printed on the front.
"This… All-natural, Organic, Made with Love cookie thing."
"I know, I know," she replies with a smile. "But you need real food, not a brick of flavored sugar."
You grumble slightly as you break the package open and nibble on your snack. It's not bad, but you definitely had your heart set on that chocco.
"Hey, did that naproxen from earlier help?" Kaja asks, her eyes on you as you eat.
"Dunno honestly," you reply. "Still kinda feel that throbbing pain whenever I try anything. Even while I was practicing Telepathy with those two… It definitely distracted me from fully concentrating. But to answer… it mighta helped. Maybe just didn't hurt as much. Can't really tell. Uh, thanks for the meds anyway."
Kaja grimaces as you speak, seemingly frustrated at being unable to help you.
"How's Dad, by the way?" you say.
"He's doing good," she replies. "Got a few staples in his head now, and all bandaged up the proper way. But they've hooked up a saline IV into him since he lost too much blood. So he's resting up for now, probably best overnight.
"Said we shouldn't have moved him that much, in case he passed out along the way. Good thing your Dad's a tough old man or he might not have made it at all."
You exhale at length at hearing that he's alright. It occurs to you that you probably haven't been as worried about him as you should have been. Because the nurse, or whoever it was that said it, is right - he shouldn't have been walking around.
Another bite of your cookie seems to energize you a bit. Or perhaps it's the good news about Dad. Or maybe you just needed a cookie, who knows? In any case, you feel a bit better.
"Hey, Kaja?" says a voice from behind both of you.
You turn to find one of the nurse practitioners. Her scrubs are a bit messy with dirt and dried blood, and she herself looks tired to the bone. Perhaps even more than you. How she's still standing is beyond you.
"Thanks for helping out back there," she continues. "We really appreciate it. So please, take this."
She hands Kaja a relatively robust, rectangular bag. Inside it appears to be three smaller bags, all exactly like the other.
"Individual first aid kits," she says. "IFAK for short. Should be one for each of you."
"Thanks," you reply. "And thanks for looking after Dad. I know you didn't need to. None of you do, I guess."
"World's gone berserk, and the only thing that still makes sense is to do what we've always done. Could say we're doing this for ourselves, too. Keeps us alive."
"Speaking of which, what's next?" asks Kaja. "I mean, none of us can possibly stay here forever."
"Yeah, I think your break room's almost outta food," you add. "Though at least you've got this vendo to help out a bit."
The nurse nods, then leans on the wall opposite. A sigh escapes from her lips, and you think that perhaps it's the first break she's taken all day, and has decided to make the most of it. Then you realize that's what you seem to be reading from her surface thoughts.
Because she's not purposefully projecting it, you absorb them as though they're your own.
You quickly shut it off, not wanting to pry into her thoughts and emotions further.
"That's definitely a problem. And we could probably get more if we need to," she says after a moment. "Real problem is we're gonna run outta meds, eventually anyway. Plus this place isn't exactly safe. If someone decides to attack us, say for those same meds, then we're kinda ass out, aren't we?"
"Two tired orderlies with shotguns isn't much of a security system," you say.
"Exactly. Which is why we're thinking of moving shop. Taking everything we can and finding a more secure place to hold out for a while."
"Where would you go, though?" Kaja asks. "Towards the city center? Closer to the general hospital?"
"No no, nothing like that," the nurse replies. "Ben, one of my orderlies, he's been listening to AM/FM all this time. Most signals are emergency recordings, others just songs looping over and over. Some are people calling out for help.
"But there's one - official military. Says they're gathering everyone up at the stadium, along with supplies, and keeping everyone safe. Or as safe as they can, from whatever these bugs and animals and whatnot that's out there."
"So you're all headed there, then?" you ask. "Maybe we oughta go with."
"The more the merrier," the nurse says. "And safer too."
"Not a bad idea," Kaja says. "We'll think about it."
You turn your head at Kaja, unsure why she wouldn't jump at the chance to be with other people. If anything, you're the one who would shy away from them. You've never been a people person. But her? Why?
"You oughta head up to the roof then," the nurse says. "When I need to do some of my own thinking, I like to go up there."
She then leads you two down the hallway and opens up one of the janitor closets. Inside is a bunch of cleaning supplies, along with a couple of rickety lockers.
Set into the far wall is a metal ladder that leads up past the drop ceiling, and further to what is presumably the hatch to the outside. The two of you shrug and head on up - why not, right?
You swing open the hatch and climb the rest of the way out onto the strip mall's roof above the clinic. Although you were expecting sticky black tar up there, instead you find gravel spread out evenly everywhere. It crunches nicely under your feet.
All manner of pipes and AC units and whatnot are laid out all over the top in order rows. Close to the clinic's large AC unit is a couple of lawn chairs flanking a rickety wooden crate.
Neither of you are very interested in what's up there though. What takes your breath away is the sky itself.
The sky has darkened considerably and is, you assume, reaching twilight. Regardless what time it actually is, a deep red color has completely overtaken the blue atmosphere, which sends an ominous chill down your spine.
More than that, you don't recognize a single star cluster that's up in the sky.
Kaja whistles low as she also scans the skies above you.
"Shit's changed, hasn't it?" she says.
"We've both changed too," you add. "Probably everyone down below."
"Like with these crazy powers, yeah?"
"Powers, yeah," you say with some hesitation. "Been thinking about grading them, scaling them. To help me make sense of it all and that sorta thing. Like I mean, you've got Telekinesis, right? And so did that shadow creature thing."
"You've got that Telepathy thing too, right?" Kaja adds. "Like those other two downstairs."
"Yep, and they're both better at it than me, which is why I kinda wanna grade it… You think it's stupid, don't you?"
Kaja laughs, not realizing that you can feel her surface thoughts fly out at you.
"Maybe, a bit," she confesses. "I don't think it's helpful to think I'm, like, a Grade Five Telekineticist or something like that. But I mean, you should still do it. What do I know, right? Maybe it would be helpful."
You purse your lips in frustration. Of course, it's just Kaja being Kaja, as always.
This is exactly what you mean when you say she's overbearing. Even when she disagrees with you, she can't help but support you. And it's frustrating for you.
Of course, you know this is supposed to be a good thing. People everywhere say that being supportive is the best kind of person to be for everyone else.
But for you, all it does is highlight just how much you're not good enough. Because you're constantly reminded of how much support you actually need, and you hate that. You hate feeling like some kind of baby, who needs coddling and caring for time and time again.
Although yeah, Kaja's being as helpful as she can, and she means really well, all you can feel is how truly inferior you are.
You know deep down that this is an issue about you and not her. But that's a fact and a feeling that you push from yourself as hard as you can. You just don't want to admit that you need that kind of help, and you crave to be a version of you that could be more like Kaja herself. To be the person who gives help all the time.
Instead, you're stuck as you.
And you hate that she's everything you could never be.
Chapter 9: Cataclysm, Pt 9
You wake many hours later, presumably at what you think is daytime. Though from the confines of the clinic, you can't exactly tell. It's not as though you can see outside - every window in the clinic has been blocked off and blacked out.
Aches and pains stab at you as you sit up - the barely-carpeted floor hardly makes for a comfortable bed. You would have taken one of the actual medical beds, but there are plenty who need them more than you.
A groan escapes your lips as you massage out your shoulder muscles. As you do so, you take a look around and note that most everyone else has already gotten up and are moving around.
Some are actively packing up medicines and supplies into whatever bags are around. There's actually a stack of small backpacks with the clinic's logo on them in the middle of the floor, each one individually wrapped in cellophane bags. It hasn't really occurred to you until now just how useful trash marketing swag could actually be.
A shame that it's taken the end of civilization for their utility to become apparent.
You pick up your messenger bag, which you had been using as a kind of pillow, and sling it over your shoulder. Then you amble over to the pile of backpacks and grab one of them, too.
Because there's already a handful of others picking through the medical supplies in here, you instead head out to the hallway. There, you find Kaja picking through the vending machine. She's once again using her Telekinesis to take snacks from their trays and cradles, then dropping them into the dispenser below.
"So can I get my chocco this time around?" you say jokingly.
Kaja laughs.
"Anyway, you need help?"
She shakes her head and says, "I've got this. But there's a few bottles of water left in the break room - you oughta grab those if you can. Also, here. Breakfast."
She hands you a granola bar, which you tear open and consume, relatively quickly.
As you chow down, you head into the break room as suggested. Most of the cabinets have been opened up and cleaned out of much of whatever food or drinks were inside. Only scraps remain.
Inside the fridge is about the same. The only things left in there are mostly-empty condiment jars and a wide assortment of condiment packets. There's also a few slices of extremely stale white bread in there. They're hard to the touch and close to inedible.
Who puts bread in the fridge? you think to yourself as you shut its door.
On the counters are a couple of packs of bottled water. Both of them have been ripped open, and only have a handful of water bottles left in them. You snap up what you can and store them in your backpack.
You also spot a handful of self-serving packets of flavored ground coffee in the corner. You've never been much of a fan of coffee, but you consider that they might be useful at some point in the future. You throw them into your backpack as well.
By the time you get out of the break room, Kaja has filled up her own clinic-branded backpack with snacks. There seems to still be a lot left over, so you grab some and toss them in yours as well.
Especially the two choc's. It's as though they've your name written on them.
As you pick through the food, you lean in towards Kaja so you can speak to her with hushed tones. Not that what you say is particularly sensitive or anything, you just would rather be a bit discreet and not broadcast what you say.
Getting snippets of people's thoughts here and there has made you slightly more paranoid about the things you say and think in return. You never know who's listening in, after all.
"So we're sticking with these people?" you ask. "I got the impression that you weren't really keen on that."
"Still not," Kaja replies. "I mean, these people seem really nice, and they seem to be good people. So it's nothing on them. Just a feeling I've got. Like sticking with them somehow is gonna get them, or us, hurt. Is that crazy? Am I just being paranoid?"
What she says strikes you immediately, and instinctively nod in agreement.
"Same," you admit. "Been feeling a tiny bit paranoid since we got here. Even more now than the beginning, though. It was just an itch when we walked through those doors. Now it feels almost like we're being watched. But I can't tell by who."
"Yeah, kinda. Sorta. Something like that," Kaja replies, somewhat unsteadily. It's clear even she's unsure of why she feels that way, and is plainly second-guessing herself.
"But we're sticking with them anyway?" you ask.
"Mostly 'coz I get that same feeling about heading out on our own. Probably better we're with more people than not. At least that purple blade thing will keep most stuff away."
As you zip up your backpack and sling it over your shoulders, one of the nurses comes out to the hallway and calls out to the both of you.
"We're heading out," he says. "See if anyone else is in the examination rooms back there, then meet us out front. And also, thanks for sticking with us."
The nurse then pops back into the clinic floor where he came from, clearly too busy to linger. When Kaja spins around to check the back rooms as you've been asked, you hold her back lightly.
"I wanna try something," you say.
You close your eyes, but instead of opening your Third Eye, you sweep outward with your Telepathy in search of random thoughts and emotions. If anyone is back there, you'll easily sense whatever's on the surface of their being, be it whatever's on their minds or hearts.
No-one can really suppress it, at least as far as you've been able to tell. All they can do is muddle themselves so they're unreadable, like what you and the other two have been trying. But they're always recognizable and obvious.
People's thoughts and emotions seem like beacons in a vast emptiness, at least when you peer through with just your Telepathy.
And as far as you can tell, you're the only two left in this section of the entire clinic. The examination rooms are completely devoid of people, though you sense a handful of mice living between the walls of two of the rooms.
You grab one of the extra snacks from the vending machine's dispenser, rip them open, then toss the contents on the floor.
Hopefully that'll keep 'em fed for a little while, you think to yourself.
You turn your Telepathy back outwards and find a cluster of human minds in the clinic's reception, and a few more just outside it. Of course, they're a mix of thoughts and emotions which you can hardly tell apart. It's like they're all playing music at the same time loudly, clear for everyone to hear.
Basically, it's a kind of cacophony hanging in the air, and you have some difficulty making out the individual notes. Still, you can tell it's a bunch of people, most of whom thinking similar thoughts to each other.
Most of it is anxiety and fear, presumably because of the broken city and dead bodies all around them.
You shut off your Telepathy just as that dull ache clamps down further on your head.
"We're the only ones left in here," you say. "Let's get outta here."
Kaja slings her backpack over her shoulder as she follows you out. The two of you carefully look around through the now-ransacked clinic for anything else that could be useful, but find nothing else of value. It seems everyone has just about picked the entire place clean.
When you get back out front, you quickly note the light red sky and dark orange sun above you - the only indication that it is, indeed, daytime.
A few clusters of people are outside in the parking lot just in front of the clinic itself - the nurses and orderlies and patients from yesterday. Not only that, but a couple of them are staring at the huge purple blade in awe. Their eyes practically bug out of their heads as Kaja Telekinetically lifts it out of the asphalt and sweeps it around to hover behind her.
"Well, I feel much better knowing you can do that," says one of the nurses.
She's joined by a chorus of agreement from a few others. Some are a bit too speechless at the sight of it moving around. But you get a sense that they're glad to varying degrees as well.
It takes you a moment to realize that something's a bit off… There's less people here than yesterday.
"Where's Dad?" you blurt out.
"He's gone ahead with a couple others back to his apartment," says one of the orderlies. "Said he's got a buncha guns we could use to protect ourselves."
"We're going to meet up with them once we're set," adds a nurse. She seems to be implying you and Kaja, specifically. Which makes sense, as you're the last two out of the clinic.
"We're good to go any time," Kaja tells her.
The two of you temporarily take the lead towards your Dad's apartment, with the rest of the group in tow. Kaja up front as always, with you right behind. Most of the patients and nurses are right behind you in small groups, while the two orderlies with their shotguns take up the rear protectively.
But it's an overall short and uneventful procession - you all make it down a couple of blocks and meet your Dad at the corner.
He's with a couple other people, and all of them are now armed to the teeth. Slung over their shoulders are a variety of rifles. Your Dad has some kind of AR - you don't know exactly what kind. Only that it's black and looks deadly.
The other two with him have hunting-type rifles with scopes on them. They're also slinging duffel bags, presumably with ammunition and spare magazines in them.
Your Dad has always loved guns, something you could never truly get behind.
He walks up to you with a grin on his face, extremely happy to be reunited with his weapons. Without saying anything, he plops a holstered pistol in your hands, along with a magazine pouch with a couple of loaded spare magazines in it.
"I don't-" you begin.
But he cuts you off quickly.
"No exceptions," he says. "From what everyone's been saying about what's happened to the city, probably the whole goddamned world, we're gonna need everything we've got to stay alive. And that means getting used to things we don't wanna get used to. Now strap it on."
You don't even get to grumble as you try to put the thigh holster on - you can't exactly disagree with your Dad. Even if you think these bullets won't do anything against something like that shadow creature, or those bone insects - they might still be helpful.
Even if all they do is act like deterrents similar to the massive purple blade.
You do your best to tighten the holster's straps around your thighs, with the top strap looping around your belt for support. It feels snug, but odd. You're simply not used to having something there, all the time. A part of you can't help but scratch at the edges in an attempt to find where it's most comfortable.
Once it feels somewhat in place, you do the same thing with the magazine pouch on your other thigh. It takes you a few good minutes to get them both relatively comfortable.
Still, you can't help but feel awkward with them on your thighs. It simply feels weird to you, and definitely far from a comfort.
Your Dad also gives the rest of his pistols out - one to Kaja, another to one of the nurses, and the last one to one of the other people in the group.
"Why do you even have so many guns?" you blurt out loud. "When would you even need that many?"
"Seems useful right now, don'tcha think?" he retorts with a grin.
"Sure, but were you expecting the apocalypse to happen? You've practically got an arsenal in your apartment! Did you stock up thinking: hey, one day it's all gonna explode."
"None of us ever expect anything like this to happen. But it happened anyway. Would you rather not have this stuff in the first place? 'Sides, it's my right, right? So what if I indulged in it a bit."
You don't exactly know what to say in response. He's right, in this exact moment. But as you've thought before, it has taken a literal apocalypse for something normally unreasonable to be exceptionally reasonable.
A part of you wishes that wasn't so, but here you are.
"I'm glad we're carrying more heat," says an orderly. "Would feel real sketch without 'em. Not with the streets looking like this."
"I agree," says Kaja. "Now, let's get the hell outta here and towards that stadium, yeah?"
~~~
More from the author - linktr.ee/CeritusOrbis
Weekly Power Status
200+ Power
Ranking 
0 Power
stone You may also Like
Paragraph comment